CD - Every Drop Counts
by CalicoDiamond9
Summary: Ben Braeden doesn't mind school, just history class. So when he finds a hole in the carpet during a particularly boring lecture, mischief finds him, but so does his teacher. Warning: Language and spanking of a minor. Don't read if this isn't your thing.
1. Chapter 1

**Every Drop Counts 1**

**Hello, everyone. It has been too long, sorry for the delay! Things have been crazy here, but I think life is settling down now; I hope you all had an excellent holiday, I did! Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this new story. Please review!**

XXXXX

Benjamin Braeden sat in the principle's office tapping the toe of his sneaker on the floor. He didn't know why, but whenever something was worrying him, and God knows that was literally all the time at his house, he did. He'd fidget, and move, and dance his feet. Right now, it was to something he'd listened to this morning. Not willingly, mind you, but what could a man do when their Mom had it playing out loud? Yeah, Mom liked soft music, plus other stuff depending on what time of the year it was.

This morning's concert was something holiday-ish, if that was a word. Thing was, Ben just couldn't remember the name. It was catchy though. Ben didn't mind music like that, Christmas was cool and all, but his music was better. Plain and simple. For Ben, classic rock from the hair bands of the 70's and 80's was the best thing since sliced bread. Or that amazing cheese in a can, that was gold. Pure gold.

Come to think of it, and Ben did, the principle's office was almost a gold color, or maybe yellow, because everyone knows how happy it is to find your sorry ass at the principal's, yeah, real cheery. Ben snorted. On a more positive note, Mr. Martin wasn't in right now. That meant the entire office was Ben's at the moment, well, his to sit quietly and wait in since the secretary, Ms. Fritz, was watching him out the window behind his head.

Ben was sitting on a wooden chair with a few screws missing and a hell of a lot of scribbles all over it. He needed to remember to bring a sharpie next time; the other kids just weren't doing justice to the name of vandalism. Not that there would be a next time, or that he'd been there just a week before because of a problem in the girl's bathroom. What could he say? Ben loved girls, girls loved him, and he always wanted to lend a helping hand. Ben grinned at the memory. Alice Mason was a great kisser, lots of tongue and the smell of strawberries to last him for hours. Yep, she was pretty great.

Anyway, for being on death row, or as close to it as a kid could get, it wasn't too bad. Ben picked at a promising piece of wood, a nice splinter waiting to happen, while he waited. And Ben hated waiting. Really hated it, especially when it wasn't even his fault. Well, mostly not. Worst was though, Dean was going to kill him. Ben gulped involuntarily.

XXXXX

It had all started three months ago in third period, Mr. Carlson's history class. And anyone who knows anything knows that history is dumb as shit, or at least Ben thought so. The lectures were boring, the pictures were boring, and everything was about a bunch of old, dead white guys. Mostly though, Ben didn't see the point. Sure, school was important and all, or so Sam told him all the freaking time, but history was dumb, just dumb. History was gone and it was time to live in the present, YOLO, man.

But, since he was stuck there, Ben, like any normal person when they're bored, carved up his desk with his pocketknife, looked around the room, and daydreamed. Mainly about girls, and lately, mainly about Alice, but who could blame him? Plenty of the other kids did the same, it seemed pretty standard and normal. Or at least Ben thought that was normal, he was, mostly. But if he wasn't, normal was overrated, and Ben definitely wasn't that. No, he was cool. Of course, he'd made it to his eight grade year, which meant he'd survived almost his entire career in middle school, which was no small feat. Anyway, this class was one of Ben's last milestones before high school. But it sucked, majorly.

Mr. Carlson's classroom wasn't very big and the carpet was the color of calico vomit, with blue, maroon, gray, and brown colored speckles. Probably so you couldn't see all of the crap on the floor, because what no one can see or know about won't kill them. Anyway, Ben could've sworn he'd seen Janssen Ryals having an emergency stomach evacuation by the door last year, and that was not pretty. The damn floor should've turned green; Ben knew Janssen sure had. But yeah, the floor was gross.

But the floor wasn't all bad. In fact, if you found something important on it, the other kids would all want to have it and you could make a killing. The classroom would turn into an auction for shouting matches and trade items thrown around. Ben wasn't the only one to have walked home a few times with some cash in his pockets, promises seared into his brain, or other miscellaneous trinkets. Besides valuables, the floor was prone to fraying and holes. The thing was, Ben's history classroom was on the second floor of their school, so the floor was on top of the ceiling of another classroom. This meant that when he discovered the hole in the carpet, it wasn't shallow, but an opportunity for a great deal of experimenting.

XXXXX

On this fateful day, Ben was sitting at his desk, or mostly at it, when Zach Rowe strode confidently into the room, modeling a brand new pair of neon Nike's. Ben never got flashy shoes like that, not that they were all that great. Naw, a good pair of boots or well-worn sneakers suited him just fine, but it would have been cool. Ben's friend hopped onto the desk beside him, sitting on it with his green clad feet in plain sight. And they were a pretty fine pair of green feet, if Ben did say so himself.

"Where'd you get those?" Ben asked.

Zach shrugged. "I'm spending the weekend with my Dad. Mom says she can't deal with me right now, so he and I went shopping. Pretty neat, huh?"

Ben nodded. Zach's parents had been divorced for a few years now, he knew, and it sucked. Ben didn't have it much better, of course, but at least Dean and his Mom loved each other. Zach said that his parents wouldn't stand in the same room as each other. And to be honest, his Dad sounded like a dick.

"They're great, Zach."

Ben smiled, pulling a bouncy ball from his backpack, bouncing it on the floor and back into his hand. It was one of those bigger ones, which were supposed to bounce more. They didn't though, but they were bigger. And maybe cooler, Ben couldn't decide. Up and down, the ball made a loud thud every time it hit the floor, which didn't have much spring or anything. He was probably annoying the crap out of some teacher downstairs, but who really cared? Zach and Ben grinned and everyone else buzzed about other things.

The blue, green, and tie-dye ball spun around, and Ben would snatch it out of the air just before it flew past him each time. He bounced it hard so it smacked the ground with extra speed and a louder thud and up towards Zach. Ben watched his friend catch it, but just barely.

"Hey," Ben began, "Can you come over later? I mean, I know you're staying with your Dad…"

Zach shrugged. "He wouldn't mind. I think someone from work is coming to dinner, so I'd need to be back, but yeah."

He rolled his arm back, launching the ball towards Ben, who threw his hand out to keep it from continuing to Mindy Jenning's desk. Or her head, which would have been pretty bad. Yeah, Ben never woulda heard the end of that one. She was pretty stuck up, and girls suck at catching things. Ben couldn't help but grin though; her squeals would have been priceless. Come to think of it, he kind of liked her voice…

Just then, Mr. Carlson sniffed loudly up in the front of the room by the pull down map. There were a lot of them, and as Ben noticed, his tie was another one. Mr. Carlson straightened his tie, or moved it, 'cause it was worse now. Oh well, it suited him, Ben thought with another grin. He looked back over at Zach who smirked. Yep, he saw it too.

Mr. Carlson seemed to think it was fine though, because he paused, clasping his hands, "Alright everyone, I'd appreciate faces forward and behinds in seats, not on desks, Zachary."

He gave Zach a pointed look and Ben couldn't help but grin. Yeah, it wasn't hard to annoy Mr. Carlson. The dude kinda had it coming… everyone knows you can't be so stiff in life. There's no fun in that.

A few stragglers made their way back to their desks to sit down, some turned around, and Aaron Norton tossed a wad of paper neatly into the trashcan. A small ripple of appreciative murmurs went through the room, because talent like that just couldn't be ignored. Mr. Carlson fixed a few kids with glares, but no one was likely paying attention, Ben barely was.

Mr. Carlson headed around his desk, sitting down at the computer to scan through the names of poor souls stuck in class and Ben started his ritual of day dreaming, if you wanted to call it that. It was probably half way through class, Ben wasn't sure, since he was so good at tuning everything out and thinking about other, cooler stuff, when he noticed a hole in the carpet.

It was a little thing, maybe an inch or so around, where the edges of the carpet had separated and were frayed. Ben wasn't sure why, but it caught his attention. Dark things always did. Closets, tunnels, holes, you name it, Ben was interested. It wasn't very big, of course, but it could fit something in it. He looked around the room. Some people were holding their heads up with their hands, elbows temptingly close to the edges of their desks, had they been within reach, and most people had that glazed look. Shoot me now, they seemed to say. Others scribbled notes, but that was mainly the nerds, and Zach, but Zach liked history so he couldn't be lumped in with them.

Ben huffed quietly as he watched Mr. Carlson continue his tirade up front. Oh, the ball! Ben could have sworn a light bulb flashed over his head, because man, he was a genius, if he did say so himself. Ben carefully looked up front. Mr. Carlson was busy spitting about something that happened too long ago and was writing on the white board. Mostly stuff he didn't give a damn about, sorry Sam. Ben quickly slipped his hand into his backpack, pulling the ball out and grabbing a pencil. He let them slip out of his hands to the side of his desk and watched as they rolled towards the hole. Mindy glared at him before turning back to the front. Eh, what did he care?

Ben stepped out of his desk, crouching down by the items he dropped and tried putting the ball in the hole. Nope, it didn't work, it was too big, but the hole would fit something smaller…

"Benjamin, please sit back in your seat and listen. This will be on the quiz on Thursday." Mr. Carlson's voice cut through Ben's thoughts loudly.

A few chuckles and snickers met Ben's ears, but mostly a group of bored glares. Mr. Carlson was one of those teachers that didn't let you out until he was finished, because he didn't really give a damn about the bell. Well folks, class will be ending a little late today… as if it wouldn't already. Ben just turned back to slide nonchalantly into his desk seat. Zach gave him a quizzical look and Ben just shrugged. You'll see man, you'll see.

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

**Every Drop Counts 2**

It was the next day when Ben ran down the hallway to snatch Aaron Norton's water bottle.

Ben didn't carry water bottles, because he wasn't some chick who needed frequent hydration. No, Ben figured he could survive for lengthy amounts of time without water. He was tough like that, kind of like a camel… but not. Anyway, Ben wasn't a bully, but Aaron Norton was. The dude had a thing for picking on people, no matter who they were; he could make them feel like crap. But anyway, Ben didn't feel bad about anything he'd done, he figured Aaron Norton was perfectly capable of protecting himself, and ben was enacting a little revenge. A taste of Aaron's own medicine, as it were.

Ben and Zach strode down the tile-lined hall. Blue lockers were slammed shut, kids yelled, talked in small groups, and the crush of bodies of suffocating.

"Did you get the math stuff done?" Zach asked, snapping closed his notebook and attempting to put it into his backpack without taking it off. It was a talent for sure.

Ben's eyes widened in worry. "Math homework? Man, you gotta be kidding me… I didn't remember." He sighed, glancing at his friend.

Zach blanched. "You didn't do it? How the hell didn't you do it? You like math, you always have it done."

Ben glared at his friend, shouldering his way through a group of flustered sixth graders. "You know, its' not my job to do it for you. You gotta do your own homework once and a while."

"Of come on, I don't do it all the time. And you don't understand," Zach began, voice rising. "I tried I just didn't have time. Do have any idea— I am so screwed. You know I suck at math, I need to keep my grade up, because I'm seriously failing—"

Ben laughed, stopping to step up to his locker, swinging his backpack down from his shoulders in front of his friend. He pulled the completed worksheet from the bag, shoving it towards Zach. "Here ya go. But just this once, okay?"

Zach let out a sigh of relief, shoving Ben roughly into the locker. "You're a jerk, you know that? You scared the shit outta me, man." He shook his head, slipping the paper into his backpack for later. He made a swing for Ben's head, to which Ben ducked, laughing again, and took off down the hall.

Ben ran forward, all worries of being caught ignored or forgotten. Probably that. By the time he had reached the end of the hall, he noticed Aaron in a group of guys. Aaron stood in his red shirt, surrounded by awed students, holding a plastic water bottle up in demonstration for something. And it was tempting, real tempting. Ben ran forward, snatching the bottle, and held it up for the boys to see.

Aaron whirled around; his face a mask of confusion and anger, slowly sliding into a grin as he noticed the thief.

"Want it back?" Ben asked, dancing away a bit.

Aaron laughed. "No thanks, wouldn't want your germs, Winchester. I've been told they're girl repellent."

A few "oohs," and "burn" were mumbled in the group behind Aaron and Ben just shrugged. "'Least I can get that close to them."

He turned on his heel, clasping the bottle and sauntered into class. Yeah, Aaron, take that. Mr. Carlson had yet to make his way to class. Of course, he was usually late or just on time, it figures. Most of the other kids had also made their way in, filtering through the door to rest in various areas of the classroom. Ben walked back to his desk. One, two, three chairs, five desks, four rows. It was all a blur. But the hole was still there. Ben flopped lazily into his desk, not caring to pull off his backpack.

He fingered the bottle, listening to it crackle and pop to right itself as he squeezed its' sides. On the spur of the moment, because who really thought about what they did, Ben stood up. He dropped his backpack, unscrewed the bottle lid, and bent down next to the fraying corners of the carpet. The hole looked the same as it had the day before, and Ben fingered the carpet, before tilting the bottle down and letting the water trickle out.

It fell like water usually did, smooth and quiet, but it made no sound after entering the hole.

"What on earth are you doing?" Ben turned around quickly, oh shit, was all he could register.

Mindy Jennings stood directly behind him, probably on her way to her desk, pale armed crossed over her zebra printed self and an indignant, snotty look on her face. Ben really hated her, he realized. But instead, he slipped on his most winning smile.

"Nothing much, sweetheart. You wanna try?" He asked, offering the bottle to her.

She snorted. "No. I am going to tell Mr. Carlson though, then we'll see how happy you are."

She turned to go and Ben sprung up. "Wait! Mindy, just give me a chance, please. Uh, here, let me show you." She turned in annoyance.

"It won't be anything I haven't already seen, Ben Braeden." But instead of walking away, she merely crossed her arms again. Sweet.

Ben bent down, noticing briefly that he had the attention of all of his classmates. Zach had wandered in through the door and along with other kids, made his way over to Ben, Mindy, and the mysterious hole. Ben dribbled more water into the hole, watching it quickly disappear.

"Where do you think it goes?" Zach asked in a hushed voice.

Ben shrugged. "I can't tell. Probably just into a little puddle or something." He capped the bottle once more, glancing up and the rows of spectators. Suddenly, Mr. Carlson bustled into the room, coughing loudly and walking briskly up to the front. The group disbanded and Ben stood once more, watching Mindy flounce up to her desk. Please dear God don't let her say anything.

XXXXX

Mr. Carlson finished taking attendance and Ben couldn't help but note that it was the most attention he'd paid in this class in a long time. Maybe ever. Of course, it was only the beginning of class and Mr. Carlson had barely said anything, but still, you had to give a man credit for trying. Then it happened; Mindy raised his hand all prim and proper, looking smug as anything, and glancing over her shoulder at Ben. Ben gulped, a mix of anger and worry rising in his stomach.

"Yes, Mindy." Mr. Carlson said, funny how it didn't even seem like a question. The man even sounded bored at his own words. Come to think of it, Mr. Carlson's face always looked like his voice was putting him to sleep…

"Um, Mr. Carlson, I though you should know, Ben—" She paused and if Ben hadn't been impressed upon so many times about respecting girls, he could have sworn he would have tackled her. Mindy was kind of a bitch, and not the bangable kind either.

"Yes?" Mr. Carlson prompted, nostrils flaring with slight frustration. Or maybe he was naturally that way, Ben wasn't sure.

"Well, "She continued, "Ben is really great. But I meant to ask if we had a pop quiz today. I think you said that earlier."

She was an angel, and absolute darling, and Ben was sure he could have kissed her, had it been necessary. She turned again slightly, giving him and meaningful look and he grinned. Okay, so maybe she wasn't a bitch after all. And he was pretty damn lucky.

"Actually, Mindy, the quiz is tomorrow. But thank you for being aware." That was all Ben remembered before drifting off into his own world without boring history classes. One bully shown up, a hole investigated, and a girl thwarted, all in all, it hadn't been a bad day.

**TBC**


	3. Chapter 3

**Every Drop Counts 3**

The next few weeks were a blur; school could do that to a kid. All Ben knew was homework, practice, sleep, repeat. But at school, things were pretty good, if he did say so himself. After the first day of Ben pouring water into the hole in the floor, it had become almost routine for all of the kids to take turns dribbling water into the small opening before every class while the others watched. Ben hadn't put anymore in, and didn't really bother with the thing, after all, it didn't do anything, but he did watch.

Most remarkable was Mindy Jennings, who had stooped to Ben's level, as she had put it, and finally grabbed the waiting water bottle out of the expecting hand of her best friend with a huff. Her precision in pouring the water was great, certainly, but what was more mind blowing was the fact she was doing it. Yeah, pretty much everyone was corruptible, he decided.

Ben wasn't sure if it was vandalism, since it didn't seem to hurt anyone, but whatever the water ritual was, it was entertaining. And honestly, everyone still wanted to know if anything would happen. Even Aaron Norton had tried, not that it surprised Ben much. But he didn't do it in he normal, pushy way. No, he quietly watched at the back of the group and then walked forward to ask if he could "please" try. Ben could have sworn his mouth was hanging open like some retard, or a sixth grader.

Anyway, this continued for about two months, with every day having some water pouring with reaction or change, but it was the first week of December when all hell broke loose.

Now, here's the deal with getting in trouble: do it, enjoy it, but don't get caught. Toe the line, so to speak; that was Ben's motto. He was a good kid at heart, he was respectful to authority, he tried hard at school, and he played by the rules, mostly. But the simple fact of the matter was, there was no fun in being paranoid all the time like Mindy, or even Sam.

Anyway, on this fateful morning, and Ben certainly remembered it with a shiver, he walked to the end of the hallway as he did every day, but this time to find a large group of students packed outside Mr. Carlson's door, peering in as best they could. They whispered in hushed excitement and from what Ben could see, the door was blocked off by the janitor's cart. Now, it was pretty normal to see the janitors marching down the hall with a mop or vacuum in hand, but they didn't clean the classrooms during the day. Interesting.

Ben pushed his way closer to the front, coming to stop by Zach. His friend turned, wide eyed to look at him.

"What's up?" Ben asked, checking the door once more.

Zach shook his head, "You didn't hear? The room downstairs flooded over the weekend. Just a bunch of water fell from the ceiling…"

Ben frowned. "How the heck did that happen?"

"Dunno. A pipe burst, maybe. It was a lot of water."

Mindy turned around to look at the boys after this comment, her face ghostly white. "No. It was from the floor, you guys. Remember? This classroom is right above it. We did it."

Ben gulped, oh shit. They were doomed.

"C'mon." He beckoned, shoving back through the gathering group of curious kids to race down the hallway to the stairs; Mindy and Zach close on his heels. Similarly, the first floor classroom had a large group of students in front of the door, pushing to get a look at the floor. One of the janitors spoke in a harsh Eastern European accent to his fellow cleaner, the two both looking pensive. Ben checked between Zach and Mindy. She still looked slightly horrified and Zach, well, Zach was Zach, mostly just staring blankly.

Ben managed to shove his way to the front, directly behind the yellow sign the janitors had blocked the doorway with. The floor was a mess; no it was ruined. Everything from two feet above the ground a below was soaked. The chairs and desks were pushed aside in disarray, but most worrying was the ceiling. A gapping hole remained where the panels had fallen down. The janitors were picking up the bent pieces from the remaining water on the ground. Then Ben noticed it, the hole. A small, circular spot of light shone down from the ceiling from Mr. Carlson's history class and Ben's carpet hole.

Mr. Martin strode down the hall, his short legs almost scurrying to the scene of the crime. Ben inwardly groaned. This was terrible, but he hadn't done it all. The middle school principal pushed his way to the front of the crowd announcing a few "excuse me's" and "move please" as he went. Mr. Martin was a fairly short man, maybe 5' 7" or so, with a large beer belly, large feet, and a double chin. His graying hair curled slightly at the crown of his head, but otherwise was closely cropped to his skull. He had a pleasant face, slightly pudgy, but pleasant.

And he walked almost like his stomach was dragging him; back bowed and belly leading the way. Had Ben not been afraid for his life, well mostly, he might have cracked a smile at the large man in front of him. As it was, Mr. Martin was the last person he wanted to see at the moment.

He turned to the group of young teenagers. "Students I need everyone calm and reasonable. I want you all to head back to your classes, talk to your teachers, and know we have this under control. Ms. Watson's class will be in the music room today and Mr. Carlson's class will be in the cafeteria." He looked at everyone expectantly and after a moment, the kids began drifting off, talking in excited voices and casting glances at Mr. Carlson's class.

Ben knew it; they were dead, gone, caput. Someone shoot him now.

"Do you think they know?" Mindy asked, leaning over to Ben as they headed to the cafeteria.

"About what?"

"Well, you know… us. It was our fault."

"Oh shut up, will ya?" Zach said in exasperation. "No one's doing shit unless we tell them all. Anyway, they'll just think it was some freak accident."

Mindy looked slightly miffed. "Fine. But if they do ask, and I think they will," She added with meaning, "I'm telling them who started it, Zachary." And then she stalked off.

Zach shook his head. "Women. They make no sense, huh? She's got a real problem." Ben nodded, pushing open the metal door in front of them. Come to think of it, so did he.

XXXXX

Mr. Carlson stalked across the few tables that made up his makeshift history class. "I need an answer: who did it?" He paused, but no one spoke. Just a bunch of silent stares, because hell, they weren't stupid. They'd all been involved and they would all go down if anyone spoke up. Mr. Carlson sighed and continued, "The staff know this was not an accident, they believe someone has been pouring water into the floor in my classroom for a while now, into a hole."

Ben wiped a sweaty hand down his jeans. Still nothing. "You know this is disgraceful. What this student did was vandalism, destroying other people's property, the school's property. And it is going to be very expensive." Good going, you dumb shit, Ben thought to himself, now everyone is going to just leap at the opportunity of telling on themselves. Yeah right.

Looking back, Ben would have guessed it would happen, but still, he didn't really understand why it had to happen. Mindy raised her hand. You little….

"Mr. Carlson?"

"Mm?"

Ben gulped.

"I-uh, I…. I don't remember what I was going to say." Mindy paused in deep thought. How could anyone forget? They were all going to be killed slowly, brought back to life, and then their parents were going to kill them. Dean was going to kill him. And she somehow forgot?! Un-freaking-believable.

"Oh—" She began.

"I did it." Ben stood. He was an idiot, doomed to die and never graduate from middle school. But a kid had to do what a kid had to do. "I did it."

"You?" Mr. Carlson sputtered in surprise. Was it that hard to believe?

"Uh, yeah. I've been, uh, putting water into the hole since, I dunno, like September or something." He finished lamely.

"But it was just you?" Mr. Carlson questioned.

"…Yeah. Yeah it was just me." Ben replied, standing slightly taller to face his teacher. He knew what Shakespeare said, "we fail! But screw your courage to a sticking place and we'll not fail." Or some crap like that. Screw it all; Ben was just going to do it.

Mr. Carlson sighed with a shake of his head. "Alright. Go to the principal's office, Ben."

Ben nodded dully, avoiding his classmate's gazes. They better pretty damn grateful.

And that was how Ben up sitting on the hard, wooden chair in Mr. Martin's office waiting for what he had decided would be a reckoning of epic proportions.

**TBC**

**Happy New Year, everyone. Thank you all for the kind words and reviews, for following my stories, and generally supporting my writing. I truly appreciate it! Here's to a new year of stories. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Every Drop Counts 4**

The door of the principal's office opened abruptly, causing Ben to jump. He looked up to see his Mom walk in, bearing a strained smile and then Dean, also looking remarkably upset yet controlled. Well this would be interesting. The two took the seats next to Ben and Ben squirmed slightly in his seat, avoiding their gazes.

Mr. Martin was the last to enter and walked briskly to his desk, the ends of his pants swinging forward with the quick motion. Guess they were too long, or something. Ben couldn't help but sit up a little straighter. He didn't know if it was Dean or his Mom's constant saying that made him do it or if he just wanted to appear less gangster and rebellious. Either way, it didn't hurt to have good posture. But whatever, right?

"Well, Mr. Braeden, I see we've been busy." Mr. Martin said, sliding into his chair with a slight smile on his face.

Ben shrugged.

Dean cleared his throat. It wasn't loud, but Ben understood the meaning: _watch it, kid, talk with some respect_. Yeah, Dean was huge on respect, with adults, authority, and especially women.

"Uhm, yes, sir." He corrected.

Mr. Martin nodded, checking some papers and a file on his desk. "So," He continued, "Why don't you go ahead and start from the beginning. We want to know why you did what you did and when. It's very important, okay?"

Fair enough, Ben thought.

"Well, there was this hole. Like in the carpet, you know. It was right in front of my desk in history class, which is really boring. But anyway, I saw it and wanted to see what I could fit in it." He looked up.

Mr. Martin nodded. "And when did you find the hole?"

Ben shrugged. "I dunno. Like September or something. It was a while ago."

Ben checked on his Mom and Dean. They were also sitting awkwardly straight and polite, watching him. There wasn't anger in their gazes, but they didn't look too happy either. Ben figured the yelling would be later. Unless he was so deep that they'd do that calm and controlled whisper thing. That was worse, way worse.

"Ben."

Ben turned back to his principal abruptly. "Yes, sir?"

"Let's keep going. What did you do with the hole?"

Ben sighed. "I poured water in it."

"How much?"

Ben checked the three adults around him once more. They all looked fairly normal, he just couldn't decide whether or not to tell them. Should he take all the blame? Or should he rat on everyone else and be the least popular kid in school? This sucked…

"Ben…"

"Not much." He replied.

Mr. Martin grunted quietly, as if contemplating Ben's statement. Again, was it so hard to believe?

"Then how do you explain how much water was all over the floor? If you only put a little water into the hole, nothing should have happened."

"Well, I mean, I only poured a little in when I first found it. Then I kept putting some in everyday. But I didn't think it would do anything, it was only a little at a time." He said quickly.

"Ever drop counts, Ben." Mr. Martin sighed, looking sadly at Ben. "So, were you the only one who did this? The other students must have seen you at some point if you did this everyday."

Oh if you only knew… But Ben just shrugged. "They might've." Then he quickly added: "But none of them ever did it. It was just me, honest!"

Mr. Martin nodded. "Ben. I have to admit I'm very disappointed." No shit, Sherlock. If he wasn't, Ben would have been worried. Not that would have been a bad thing, but still. "I don't like you lying to me. If there are other kids involved I have to know. I'm not going to punish you for something entirely if it wasn't just your fault."

"But it was, Mr. Martin." Ben countered. "I mean, Mindy Jennings and Zach saw it, sure. But they never did it. Mindy even almost ratted me out once, but she never put water in the hole. None of them did."

Mr. Martin sighed again. "Alright then. Could you wait outside for a bit? I need to talk to your parents."

Ben nodded, standing quickly and shuffling past Dean and his Mom. She gave him a sad smile; squeezing his hand as he went by and Dean just watched him go, face expressionless. And if Ben was honest that hurt a lot worse than Dean yelling at him or spanking him. A whole lot worse.

XXXXX

Ben was first in the house, grabbing a loose banana off the top of the fruit bowl and heading towards the stairs.

"Woah, slow down, kiddo. We're gonna talk about this." Dean's deep voice sounded behind Ben.

Ben sighed, quickly veering towards the kitchen table. He realized it was only about twelve or so in the afternoon. He'd be at school right now, probably eating lunch. And he was hungry. Ben began to peel the yellow fruit in his hand while his Mom and Dean walked in. The two adults sat down across from him, expressions somber.

Lisa sighed. "Why, Ben? I just can't understand it. We talked about obeying the rules and staying out of trouble last week. Why would you do this?" She looked hurt more than anything and Ben hung his head.

"'M sorry, Mom."

"Ben I'm glad you're sorry, really I am. But you're not explaining _why _you did it."

Ben shrugged. "I don't know. I just wanted to see what would happen."

"Is that why you disobey me, your teachers? 'Just to see what will happen?" Lisa asked, voice rising.

Dean placed a calming hand on her arm. "Lise." He looked at Ben. "Here's the deal: you're in trouble, you got that?" Ben nodded. "Good. All we wanna know is why you did—" 

"I already told you!" Ben exclaimed, jerking up from his chair.

"Sit down." Dean growled.

Ben huffed, flopping back into his seat with a fierce glare at the adults across from him. If they'd stop asking the same damn questions, it might not be so hard. Couldn't they understand that?

"I-I just, I already told you. I don't really know why, it was fun. I was stupid. End of story. Okay?"

"No, not okay. You aren't stupid and you sure as hell aren't talking to your Mother and I like that. We'll stop asking about why, but you need to take a chill pill." Dean's eyes bore into Ben and the thirteen year old unconsciously pulled back into the wooden kitchen chair.

"We clear?" Dean asked.

Ben sighed. "Yes, sir." Clear as a bell. Crystal clear. Clear, oh screw it, who cared?

His Mom nodded. "So did anyone else pour water into the hole?"

"No, Mom, I already told you." Ben said sadly. "It was just me."

"Don't lie to us, Ben." Dean said with no heat in the words. Ben glanced at the older man.

"Nope. Well, me and the shapeshifter…" He glanced up at Dean. But Dean didn't smile at that, he just sighed, running a hand down his face. It was worth a shot…

"Ben." Dean spoke kindly, leaning forward towards the boy. "I don't know if you're trying to protect someone or what your doing. If so, that's great. But we need to know who else was involved. I can tell you're lying." He looked at Lisa. "Your Mom can tell you're lying. Just tell us the truth. We need to know."

Ben twisted the finished banana peel between his fingers.

"Ben…"

"Promise you won't rat on them?"

Dean snorted. "I can't say I won't 'rat' on them—"

"Please, Dean?" Ben looked up sadly. "I-I don't want to get them in trouble, they're my friends. And besides, it was my idea and I started it first."

"How many times did you pour water in the hole?" His Mom asked, also leaning forward, but this time to grab her son's hand.

"Just once." He admitted. "But you promise?"

Dean sighed. "Yeah sport, I promise. No stories from me."

Ben nodded. "Everyone in my class did some. We'd put water in everyday. I mean, I did it the first day, but then everyone else wanted to. We just did it and nothing happened, so we figured it was just fun. They're all pretty cool. But we really didn't mean any harm."

He looked quickly up at Dean and his Mom. She smiled, squeezing his hand.

"Thanks for being honest."

Ben nodded.

"Well, you've been suspended for three days," His Mom continued. "I think… well, Dean and I are going to talk about your grounding."

She looked at Dean for affirmation. He nodded as well, turning back to Ben. And somehow Ben couldn't help but feel a bit betrayed, like everyone was ganging up on him for doing the right thing. At least it felt right.

Dean cleared his throat. "So that's about it." Ben couldn't help but be a little surprised. Nothing else? Then Dean spoke again, and damn if that wasn't the worst feeling in the world.

"Go ahead to your room. I'll be up."

**TBC**

**Thank you all again for your reviews, it's so exciting to see what you think!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Every Drop Counts 5**

Dean Winchester closed the door of Ben's bedroom door behind him, facing the young teen. At the moment, Ben was sprawled on his stomach facing the wall. He whipped around upon hearing Dean and Dean couldn't help but smirk. The kid had that guilty look on his face and Dean wasn't sure if it was from not being on his guard or something else.

"Anything I should know about?" Dean quirked a tired smile. Then the phone came into view. Ah.

Ben shook his head, slowly sitting up. "No. I was just talkin' to Zach. He wanted to know if I was still alive."

Dean pulled up Ben's desk chair to sit near the boy. "And what'd you tell him?"

Ben shrugged, smiling sheepishly himself. "That I am… right now." Dean smiled again, damn kid. Then his face turned serious.

"So Zach was part of it?"

Ben paused, looking at Dean. "Yes, sir. He didn't do anything everyone didn't do. A-and you promised… Dean?"

Dean looked up. "Right." He took a deep breath. "You know, I'm proud of you."

"What? For being a major fuck up?"

"Hey now." Dean frowned. "Better watch that mouth of yours'. And no. I don't think you're a fuck up. You messed up, sure, but you admitted it. That takes some guts."

"So you're not mad?" Ben asked almost in a whisper.

"I was." Dean replied and Ben squirmed a bit. "It was stupid and it cost a lot. For the school, For your Mom and I. For you. And I'm pissed you tried to lie, but it was brave to take the blame."

"So…?"

"So I'd better not catch you lying or dumping fucking boats loads of water into the floor." Dean said sadly. Ben smirked.

"It's really not funny. I mean it. You lie to your Mom or I and you can bet we'll be right back here, got it?"

Ben nodded. "Yeah." Dean quirked an eyebrow at him. "I mean: yes, sir. I got it."

Dean sighed. "Let's get this over with."

"Do we have to? I mean, you and Mom already like talked to me, a lot. And I'm really sorry. Plus, I'm grounded and suspended. Can't that be enough?"

Dean shook his head. "C'mere."

Ben sighed again. But he walked slowly over to Dean, his heart beginning to speed up. Not like he was in some damn race, or walking to his doom, but it sure felt like it. Ben gulped.

Dean reached out, carefully grasping Ben's wrist and guiding the young teen over his lap and tugging his jeans down. Ben couldn't help but notice how much room there seemed to be on Dean's lap. Kind of a weird idea, not most people would think about that, but when you found yourself on said person's lap, it was hard not to. Ben also noticed how uncomfortable it was, with him lying down on Dean's damn hard legs. Yeah, this was pretty terrible.

Ben's thoughts were quickly put to a standstill when Dean's hand connected solidly with his upturned backside. Ben couldn't help the small gasp that escaped his lips. Shit that hurt. He didn't have time to dwell on the initial shock however, because the second swat landed right beside the first and Ben knew this was gonna suck.

Dean focused on methodically warming Ben's backside in hard, fast swats sure to leave a lasting impression. He knew Ben needed the lesson, but it didn't make it any easier to tune out the small cries began to escape Ben's lips. Soon enough he had Ben gasping at each swat and as tears began to fall, Ben rued the day he ever thought pouring water into a damn hole was a good idea.

A sob escaped Ben and Dean knew it was time to finish it. All of it. He landed four solid swats to each of Ben's thighs, eliciting a painful gasp and harder sobs from the boy. And then it was done. Ben cried, hard. And he hated himself for it, for being a baby and crying, but it freaking hurt.

Dean quickly pulled the kid up, resting him carefully on his lap. And Ben melted into the embrace. As he crying began to ebb and turn into loud sniffs he pulled away, rubbing furiously at his eyes.

"'M sorry." He said in a voice laced with tears.

Dean smiled. "I know you are, sport. Let's not have a rerun, okay?"

Ben nodded vehemently. That would probably be a good idea, for him and his ass.

XXXXX

Fifteen minutes later found Ben and Dean walking back down to the kitchen. Lisa smiled as the two walked into the room. Her favorite men. She noted the red, puffy eyes Ben sported, but also the large grin they both wore and the easy way they talked. Ben ran up and much to her surprise, hugged her.

"I'm sorry, Mom, really."

Lisa laughed lightly. "Thank you." She squeezed him, planting a kiss on his head.

"Oh, Mooom…." Ben whined.

"What?" She laughed. "It's not everyday a Mom can hug her big, huge, thirteen year old. I might as well finish it off." She winked.

And Ben rolled his eyes. "Sure." He looked around the kitchen quickly. "Hey, when are we eating? I'm seriously gonna die from starvation over here."

Lisa laughed, glancing up at Dean. Well, Ben wasn't any worse for the wear. The 'tude was back. _Thank you_, she mouthed. Dean smiled as well, allowing a slight nod as he put his hands on Ben's shoulders to give them a squeeze.

**End.**

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